He winced at my words and shook his head sadly.
“It was the Rain though, wasn’t it?”
He looked down at his feet. “It’s possible. If she was . . . like you, then she was dangerous.”
“Why? What made her dangerous?” I growled. “Was it because she could do this too?”
I pulled the card that he’d written the address of the warehouse on and held it between my fingers, forcing heat into it. Pins and needles pricked my fingers as the fire within me built until it was almost painful. I focused the heat into the card forcing it to smolder and burn. Curls of smoke rose from between my fingers, and he stood mesmerized by the flames as they consumed the card.
Once the fire I’d set licked at my fingers, threatening to burn me, I dropped the flaming card to the ground and stamped it out under my shoe.
As if releasing the card broke some spell over Clay, he recoiled from the sight of me. The small action was enough of a reminder of his reaction to the heat in my body two years earlier. My mouth curled into a sneer.
“You’re a killer, from a line of killers,” I said. “Nothing will change that. Obviously, I made a mistake coming here today.”
His frown deepened as his gaze snapped back to mine.
Without waiting for him to say anything else, I turned to leave.
“Don’t leave.” He rushed to my side and grabbed my wrist before I could go.
My heart skipped. Despite the years, I was able to repay some of the pain he’d inflicted on me back onto him.
I met his sorrow-filled gaze, and guilt weighed down my limbs. I didn’t want to feel guilty; he didn’t deserve my remorse. I was only giving him back a fraction of the agony I’d endured at his hand. I didn’t seem to be able to control any of the reactions I had around him though.
Instead of allowing my guilt to overtake me, I reminded myself of the reasons I was right to hate him.
It didn’t stop my traitorous body longing to have him pressed against me again.
“It’s not like that,” he said. “The work we do . . . that I did. It’s about the lives we are able to save, not the creatures we kill. That’s why we do it.”
I flinched at the word “creature.” Is that what I am to him? “How can you justify murder? Who gave you that right?”
He failed to understand the rhetorical nature of my question, or he understood and answered it anyway. “It started with Noah’s flood. Warriors with special training were given forty days and forty nights to wash away all the evil from Earth the way the rain rinses clean the forest. That was the legend of the Rain—the beginning of our time. Since then we’ve been around to destroy the stray creatures that have wandered back out of the darkness.”
There’s that word again. “I am not a creature,” I hissed, unable to continue to listen to his excuses and justifications.
His expression softened. “I’m sorry, Evie.”
“Sorry for what exactly?”
His gaze was downcast again, and his palm found the back of his neck. “I told you. For what happened that day. For who I am.”
I was dangerously close to giving in to the part of me that longed for nothing more than to forgive him for everything he was apologizing for, but I couldn’t. What would he have done if I hadn’t left Ohio?
Before I had a chance to say anything more, Clay spoke again. “I know you might not believe me, but I never told my family about you.”
It was almost as if he’d issued the words as a magic wand to fix everything that had happened between us. As if he could erase his cruel words and my broken heart with one good deed.
How dare he show up after two years and act like he didn’t shatter my teenage heart just because he didn’t tell his family about me! “Why not?”
My question seemed to put him off-guard. “Because they would have killed you if I did.”
The casual way he spoke of my death made it easy to set my jaw and will away all emotions beside the healthy dose of fear that was a constant undercurrent running through my body. “Don’t I deserve to die just because of what I am?” I jeered.
His brow knitted together, and his mouth mashed into a hard line that turned down at the corners. “No . . . I . . .” He sighed. “I don’t want that.”
“Who cares what you want? What gives you the right to pick and choose who gets to live? Why do I get that honor but my mother didn’t?” I asked, my voice rising by almost an octave as I was filled to the brim with thoughts of my mother, of my father’s grief, of everything that the Rain had cost my family. So much had been lost because of Clay’s beliefs and the organization he was raised in. How was I supposed to be okay with any of that? My body quivered even as it heated as the thoughts rushed through me. “She didn’t get to live even though she never hurt anyone!”
As if he’d been barely suppressing his emotions for our whole conversation so far, my ire sparked its counterpart in him, and he exploded. “I don’t think that I have any right! I was raised to believe that everything other deserves to die. There is part of me that still thinks that I made the biggest mistake of my life in not killing you on sight!”
The fire in my veins reacted to the threat in his voice, and a fever raced over my skin. The air around me grew thick with heat, and a visible haze surrounded my hands. Clay stepped closer to me. One of his hands hovered near his waist, and I was certain he was reaching for a weapon. I prepared to defend myself. There was no way I would go down without a fight.
He raised his hands in surrender as he closed the distance between us. At the sight, the heat in my limbs dissipated a little. For a moment, he stood almost motionless.
“But I couldn’t,” he continued, his voice so soft that he sounded almost completely defeated. “Is that what you want to hear? I couldn’t kill you.”
His fingers clenched and unclenched, his muscles twitched and shook, and his chest heaved as he worked to bring his breathing under control. He narrowed his eyes and frowned. The sorrow in the depths of his gaze made my fingers twitch with the need to comfort him. Once more I had to battle against the desire to forgive everything that had happened. To take him in my arms and kiss his perfect pout.
“Goddamn it, Evie,” he muttered as he reached for the brown curls of my wig and pulled it from my head. He tossed the hairpiece to one side of the small room. Then his fingers curled around the tie in my hair and pulled it out, releasing the strands from the braid I’d set them in and allowing it to frame my face in flame-like tendrils. His eyes trailed from my eyes to my hair. “I haven’t been able to get you out of my head since you left. At first I thought it was just because I didn’t get closure when you disappeared so suddenly, but I don’t think that’s it.”
He met my eyes before his gaze trailed down to my mouth. His tongue slid forward to slick his lips with moisture as his gaze lingered on me. After a heartbeat, he lifted his eyes back up to mine again, scorching me with their brutal intensity. His lips parted, and his breathing sped. The heat in his eyes made my stomach flutter and my heart clench. Ever so slowly, he lifted his hand back to my face and brushed the back of his hand over my cheek. Then he curled his palm around the curve of my jaw as his fingers played with my hair.
“I care about you, Evie. I know that I shouldn’t, but I do.”
Between the look he gave me and the sweetness in his words, I decided I owed him a confession of my own. It was as close to an apology as I would give him after the hurt he’d caused me. “I never lied to you,” I whispered. It was important for him to know that. “Back in school, I never lied about what I was. I just didn’t know. You have to believe that.”
He studied me for a moment, his eyes focused steadily back and forth between each of mine as he weighed my words. “I do.”
I closed my eyes to protect my heart from the potential for agony that his intense gaze hinted at. It was all too easy to fall for him just as I had in high school. Something told me that it was not going to end well for either of us—I was still a monster in h
is eyes, and he was still Rain—but I couldn’t find it in myself to care when he looked at me like that. A heat that had nothing to do with fear or anger burned through my body.
“You obviously know what you are now though.”
I nodded.
“A phoenix?” he asked, whispering the last word as if to protect me from the weight of it.
“It doesn’t make me a bad person though,” I said. “I’m not evil.”
“I really hope you’re right about that. Part of me, a part I don’t like very much, still feels like I’m making a mistake.”
“Why did you come then?”
He breathed out a shaky sigh. “I had to see you. I . . . I don’t care who my family is, or what they stand for,” he said. “Not anymore.”
A smile formed on my lips as a warmth that had nothing to do with fear or anger crept through my limbs. “So what happens now?”
He rested his forehead against mine as he wrapped his arms around me. “That’s the million dollar question isn’t it?”
“And what’s the answer?”
He threaded his fingers into my hair and eyed my lips with a hungry stare. My skin burned hotter where he touched me, and I was certain it had to have been hurting him, but he didn’t let it show if it was. If anything, he gripped me tighter as he ducked his head forward and captured my lower lip between his before slicking the tip of his tongue across the surface. It was the smallest movement, but it echoed throughout my entire body. Every inch of my skin tingled in anticipation of his caress.
In the years since I’d run from his rancor in Ohio and fled the city with Dad, I’d been too busy trying to survive to feel desire or crave companionship with another, but Clay’s kiss made me desperate for his touch. Because of how tightly he held me, it was obvious he was just as affected by our union as I was. It made me crave things I’d never known I’d wanted. Touches I’d never experienced.
Too soon, he pulled away. I whimpered in response to the loss.
“Evie, I don’t want this,” he murmured.
“What?” I asked incredulously. He’d pursued me, kissed me twice, and now he was telling me he didn’t want me?
“What I mean is I don’t want this now, like this. I don’t want to be shaped by my mistakes. I want what we had in Ohio before I stupidly threw it all away.” He raised his hand and scrubbed the back of his neck.
“But you can’t turn back the clock.”
“I know, and I’m not trying to. I just . . .” His breath caught and he gave a strangled chuckle. “God, why is this so hard?”
Eyeing the prominent bulge in his jeans, I resisted the urge to chuckle at his unintentional joke. The earnest look on his face as he watched me stilled my tongue though, and I thought I might have an idea of what he was trying to say, but I didn’t want to assume just in case I was wrong.
He met my gaze, and I could see a swarm of self-doubt buzzing behind his eyes. It was almost as if we were back in the school corridor and he was offering to show me the local sights again. “I just want you to be sure that you want this, that you want me, before we go any further. We come from two different worlds, and mine isn’t safe for you. Being with me will be dangerous.”
“Clay, the world is dangerous to me because there are people like the Rain in it. I’m no stranger to living day to day, or doing whatever is needed to survive.” Although Dad did most of the actual theft and fraud, I knew how to evade capture when I needed to.
He frowned as he reached out to brush a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “I’m just saying that I’m willing to walk away from that part of my life for you, but I can’t be with you unless I know that you’re aware of the risks.”
I nodded. “You won’t hurt me,” I said with a confidence I almost believed. He’d had the opportunity to do so on a few occasions now. Despite his words of caution, I didn’t think he was a threat. At least not at that moment. The echo of the fear I’d lived with for the last two years was still present in my mind though.
“I won’t,” he agreed, “but that doesn’t mean my world won’t come back to haunt us.”
“If I said no, that I didn’t want this and walked out of here, will the Rain stop hunting me?” I knew the answer as well as he did.
Dropping his gaze to the floor, he shook his head sadly.
I trailed my finger along his cheek, before cupping his face in my palms. “Then any danger they pose isn’t your fault, is it?” I pressed my lips against his, eager to get back the mood from earlier.
He pulled away from me again. “Will you come back tomorrow?”
“What’s wrong with now?”
“I want you to go home and think about what I said. If you’re willing to try to see where this might lead, then come back tomorrow.”
“And if I don’t come back?”
He couldn’t meet my gaze when he said, “Then I’ll have my answer about how you feel.”
CHAPTER FIVE
THE CAR behind me honked, and I glanced up at the green light, wondering how long I’d been sitting stationary. I was in such a state of shock as I drove home from my meeting with Clay that I was probably being a menace on the roads. For the second time, he’d awoken things deep inside me, only this time it was human desires and not a supposed mythological creature.
My head still spun at how quickly all of my assumptions had been turned on their head. He was right to send me away. I really did need to think about what he wanted, and what it might cost. For us to be together, I needed to be able to trust him implicitly. Despite the desire to kiss him for the rest of my life, I couldn’t give my heart to him until I knew for sure it wouldn’t be shattered again.
I was so dazed I almost forgot to collect the groceries that I’d promised Dad I’d bring home, only remembering when I reached the beginning of our street. Muttering to myself about my stupidity, I did a three-point turn as fast as possible in the old blue beast of a truck at least—and, after double-checking that my wig was in place properly, headed for the store.
Because of the last minute detour, I arrived home late. Dad berated me at first, but once I had the chance to get a word in edgewise, I offered the best apology I could.
“Sorry, Dad. I got caught up helping Mr. Lewis put away some inventory.”
Once upon a time, I would have been lectured for not calling him, but we were running without cell phones at the moment because they were too easily tracked and the landline at the house we were squatting in was disconnected.
“That’s okay. We had enough for dinner tonight anyway. How was your day?”
A goofy smile crossed my lips and fluttering wings chased each other around my stomach. “It was good.”
“Good? What happened to ‘I’m a cashier in a tiny store that has no customers’?”
I shrugged. “I guess today was just better than before.” I wasn’t ready to elaborate to him exactly why it was better just yet. Although I’d learned long ago that no good ever came from us keeping secrets from each other, I wanted to avoid the inevitable questions Dad would ask. At least until I had sufficient information to answer them myself.
“You look a little flushed. Are you feeling all right?” Out of a long-ingrained parental habit, Dad lifted his hand to my forehead but stopped himself at the last minute. My constant heat meant slight variations in my temperature due to fever were impossible to detect by touch.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re sure?”
“Trust me?”
He nodded. “Of course. If we can’t trust each other, what chance do we have in this world?”
My stomach twisted uneasily as I considered the possible consequences of lying to Dad. I could easily recall the paranoia and exhaustion that had equally taken hold of Dad during the years he’d kept my true nature a secret. His chestnut hair had hung lank and dirty over his forehead instead of rising in its usual unruly but somehow perfectly styled mess. It was almost as if that part of him was as tired of the constant running as I was.
>
After his revelations, a new understanding had passed between us, and we were both willing to put the past behind us. Regardless of whether he should have told me sooner, or if he had been right to wait, I’d learned the truth, and there was no going back from it. As we’d driven away from Ohio, the hardness and weariness seemed to have left him—as if he’d shed the burden of his guilt when he’d told me the truth.
I couldn’t allow Clay’s return to destroy the trust we’d regained.
I’ll tell him after I meet with Clay tomorrow, I reassured myself to ease the guilt.
At least I’d have a better idea of what Clay and I are doing after our meeting. I wouldn’t have to worry Dad unnecessarily.
FOR THE second day in a row, I prepared myself as if I were going to work, with no actual intention of working my shift. In fact, I intended to stop by the store to tell Mr. Lewis that I wouldn’t be back at all. Dad was right, we didn’t need the job for the money, and there was little reason for me to keep up the pretense of a normal life. Not while I had Clay to contend with. If things between us turned sour, I would be leaving town, not serving customers.
While I was getting ready, I lied to Dad again. Guilt made my voice heavy and strained as I told him that I wasn’t feeling well after all. But I wanted to take the truck again without him questioning me over it.
Almost the moment I left the store after delivering my news to Mr. Lewis, I shed my wig. If Clay and I were going to be talking about us, I wanted to actually be me from the start. My driving was just as terrible as it had been the previous evening because I was so distracted about what was to come. By turning up, I was declaring to Clay that I was willing to attempt a relationship with him. My heart and head had raged a battle for most of the previous night, but my heart had eventually won out. Even the mere possibility of a relationship made my head spin—our very nature made us enemies. His kisses, and the way he made me burn in such a perfect way, were worth the risk though.
Through the Fire (Daughter of Fire Book 1) Page 3
